


A day in a life without regret.

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Asphyxiation, Depression, Dubious Consent, Eating Disorders, Gen, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian has far too many to count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A day in a life without regret.

It was something that Sebastian needed. He would lie in bed at night, horrible thoughts consuming his mind, and he would, without fail, always feel tempted.

He would take the beautiful black silky ribbon he had in his bedside drawer, he would run his hands over it, look at it as the light from the moon outside his closed window caught it. He would take that beautiful ribbon, and he would wrap it firmly around his throat.

He would pull it tighter, and tighter, until he could feel his head starting to grow hot, his breathing becoming desperate and labored. He would wait a few moment, while his body panicked but his mind was slowly turning calm.

He would take the ribbon off then, slipping it back in the drawer, rolling over and finally falling asleep, a tinge of regret in his mind that he hadn't gone further.

* * *

It was something that Sebastian enjoyed. He would get home from school, to the big empty house he was supposed to call home, but it never felt right when he so much as thought about it. The loneliness of the mansion would get to him, soon enough, and he would, without fail, feel tempted.

He would take the knife out of the drawer in the kitchen, push up his sleeve and run the sharp, serrated blade over his flesh, reveling in the feeling and the anticipation of what he was about to do. He would stare at the knife and how the kitchen lights caught it just right, and then he would press it into his skin.

He would drag it across slowly, over and over, until he was gasping in pain, wincing and trying not to scream. He would pull the blade away, looking at the wound. If it didn't spill a drop of blood, he would press the blade against it again, harder, until it did.

He would look at his wounds when he finished, almost admiring the blood that trickled from them and down his arm, despite the disappointment that they were so small, barely a scratch, and so far from his wrists.

He would wash the knife and his wounds, putting the knife away and pushing his sleeve back down, a tinge of regret in his mind that he couldn't go further.

* * *

It was something that Sebastian wanted. He would sit in his room for hours on end, listening as his stomach began to growl loudly. He would ignore it, holding off as long as he could, but he would, without fail, always feel tempted.

He would go downstairs, quietly, and he would take some food, he would eat it quickly, and try to walk away… but he couldn't. He would eat more, and more, until the numbness in the back of his mind, the dizziness from the hunger, began to fade.

He would retreat upstairs, guilt and misery consuming his mind. He would walk into the bathroom, collapse in front of the toilet, and stare at the bowl for a long moment, trying to build up his resolve.

He would cry when he did it, feeling like he was voiding himself of all his organs too, he would gag from the smell and feel even sicker than before. He would look in the mirror afterwards, while he brushed his teeth thoroughly so no one would know.

He would admire how lanky he was, the bones he could almost see under his flesh. His mind would screech at almost. He would look to the toilet momentarily before walking out, a tinge of regret that he gave up instead of going further.

* * *

It’s something Sebastian couldn't stop. He would drink until he felt everything fading from his body and mind, the misery and self-loathing depleting with every drop.

He would be hit on, by numerous guys, some attractive, some he would like to say yes to, he would say no to them if they ever asked. Some he would want to get as far away from as possible, he would always say yes to them.

He would let them use him, wonder in the back of his mind why they ignored the scars on his limbs, the bruises on his neck, the bones protruding from his flesh. He would ask them to go harder, instead.

He would wake up the next day, would sneak out in the early hours of the morning and retreat home. He would lie down in bed, and let his thoughts consume him.

He would pull out the ribbon from his drawer, and he would let another day take place, a tinge of regret that he couldn't do anything further.

END.


End file.
